I took a bite of cookie and chewed. “Hmmm,” I said, trying not to spit crumbs. “Clear vanilla notes, too-sweet chocolate chips, distinct flavor of brown sugar. A decent cookie, not spectacular. Still, a good-hearted cookie, not pretentious.” I turned to Fang. “What say you?” “It’s fine.” Some people just don’t have what it takes to appreciate a cookie.

I guess I write four or five hours a day, but I do it seven days a week. It's very disciplined, yes, but it's joy for me.

Fang, fang. I love you. I looooove you. I love you thiiiiiiiiiis much!

What happened to your tan?"--Fang "It was dirt." --Max

Gazzy: "Just Ten?" Angel: "No." Gazzy: "Five?" Angel: "No.

I couldn’t leave Total behind.” “Total?” Iggy asked. “That’s what his card said,” Angel explained. “Totally a mutant dog who will probably turn on us and kill us in our sleep,” Fang said.

I never read detective novels. I started out in graduate school writing a more serious book. Right around that time I read 'The Day of the Jackal' and 'The Exorcist'. I hadn't read a lot of commercial fiction, and I liked them.